


Conversations

by Finnboy (Wobin)



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-06-23
Updated: 2004-06-23
Packaged: 2019-02-05 17:49:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12799281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wobin/pseuds/Finnboy
Summary: Sometimes you just can't make it home...





	1. And How Was Your Day, Honey?

Pairing: Sk/K/D implied

* * *

"So he sat there, attempting to look all innocent and stated it was for 'obtaining important contact information', with Scully nodding firmly."

 

Alex blinked as he thought this through, "And the fact it was actually under the name of 'Madame Foofoo's Exotic Farm Massage' obviously adding credence to that claim." He tucked the phone more snugly under his chin and shoulder as he manoeuvred the corning ware dish into the oven. 

 

"I know." Walter rolled his eyes, not normally a gesture translatable across a phone line, but it somehow managed to work its way into his voice.

 

 

"Geez. And I thought he had some interesting excuses for his habits when we were partners. I mean, did he really think he could get away with the funding towards a whip, a feathered boa, leather harness and half a gallon of 'wrestling' jelly?" Eyes narrowed, he adjusted the heat settings before turning back to the sink.

 

"I'm starting to regret having asking him to fully itemise his reports. And the way Scully sat down, I'm not sure I really need to have the mental imagery." Walter doodled absently on the pad beside his phone as he cast a jaundiced eye towards the paperwork he'd brought home.

 

"I have to say, either the X-files are getting a lot spookier, or their sex life has become so passé they need the, er…" Alex trailed off as he attempted to find suitably acceptable … 

 

 

"Sadomasochistic leather enema harness with vacuum attachments and added electro-shock points…"

 

Alex paused. Well, so much for acceptable... "…to spice up their relationship…" He gave the pot on the stove a judicious stir, before throwing in some pepper.

 

"Hmm? Oh, I was just reading out loud…" Walter reached for the red pen.

 

 

"I don't know. Maybe you just have to keep them busy. Throw a few more cases into their laps." Alex checked the dish in the oven before pulling some vegetables from the fridge and tossing them into the sink.

 

"An idea, it's just that there isn't too much going on at the moment, yet they still manage to fill the budget. I don't want to think how much they got away with when it was all just grouped together…" Walter took a mouthful of beer as he recapped the pen, placed it firmly on the pile of forms, gave the pile a nudge to the side and refocused on the television that was currently flickering the latest football game.

 

"I could always show up visibly somewhere…" Alex offered as he chopped the beans slowly, hindered somewhat by a missing limb. "I could pop into existence in some one horse, Podunk town, far, far away and stand there staring pointedly at an anthill or something. I'm sure Mulder would sit there digging away until the next odd something-or-other-and-probably-elvis sighting."

 

"He's easily distracted." Walter agreed, wincing as one of the star players got knocked down and crushed between the wall and a particularly busty cheerleader. "Show him something shiny and he'll be off. I swear he has the attention span of a ferret on speed…" Something occurred to him and he pulled the expense sheet back out, scanning down it quickly. "Oh wait, here's the expense for the Ritalin."

 

"Explains a lot, that does." Alex switched shoulders, and tossed the beans into the water, jumping back as the splash almost scored on his "Kiss the Assassin" apron. "Would you believe ol' Smokey has me on toddler training?"

 

"What, you're actually moulding the future minds of the death industry?" Walter channel surfed through the obligatory advertisements for 'a dryer tastier beer' and 'Hair loss' that seemed prevalent during the game, obviously the station knew its target audience.

 

"Oh yes: Ladies and Gentlemen of the class of now. Wear black. If I could offer you only one tip for the future, black would be it." Alex snorted under his breath. "I swear, they're getting younger each year."

 

Walter grinned, he had felt the same seeing each new batch of agents stroll into the Hoover. Sucked up into the bureaucracy. Younger, ganglier, less respect for their betters, always smart mouthed behind your back… 

 

"And I tell you, Walt, none of them have any sense of style, nah, it's all done with explosives nowadays, no finesse, no pride in their art. To them, there's nothing a kilo of C4 won't fix. It's depressing." Alex looked up as he heard the key in the door.

 

"The days of the gentleman assassin long gone, Lexi?"

 

"Too true. If they're not trying to look mysterious and dark, they have the subtlety of Schwarzenegger on a steroid high. I don't know if I'm training beat poets or WWF wrestlers." He quickly set the cutlery out, before carefully transferring the hot dishes to the coasters he'd placed in the centre of the table. "Anyway. Gotta go, Spot's back, and dinner's done"

 

Walter laughed. "I still don't know how you managed to get Doggett to answer to that name."

 

Alex grinned, "It's nothing more than the truth, I mean you've seen, just in his inner left thigh…"

 

Walter heard Alex's cry of "Hey!" in the background as the phone was deftly fielded by a slyly grinning Agent Doggett who spoke into the receiver. "Goodnight Walt, see you soon. I have a rat I need to rough up a little." Walter laughed and hung up the phone, looking forward to the homecoming.


	2. And How Was Your Day, Honey?

Pairing: Sk/K/D implied

* * *

The electronic strains of the first seven notes of "It's a Small World" on permanent repeat echoed through the café, much to the annoyance of the customers who suddenly had the melody running through their heads as they mentally completed the musical phrase.

 

Alex flipped the sleek looking phone open.

 

"Sasha's house of the damned, please leave your soul at the sound of the beep and we'll get back to administering your eternity of pain shortly."

 

Alex paused.

 

"Beep."

 

Heavy breathing was the only response on the other end. He peered at the caller ID and grinned.

 

"What's up, Spot? Dana fall down the well again?"

 

The breathing on the other end turned into coughing as the caller struggled against laughter.

 

"Bored, Alex?" John asked when he regained his breath.

 

"Oh yes. We're on a field trip. Their job is to find me. I've passed by two of them as a bicycle courier, another three while dressed in a chicken outfit holding a bucket, one of which actually donated… I'm currently doing the business man having a coffee while sitting in plain view of the main square. It's rather depressing, really." Alex stirred his café latte idly as he considered the sugar bowl for another packet or not.

 

"At least you're enjoying yourself. Scully and I are stuck in some seedy bar trying to track down her wayward partner." John almost placed his elbows on the bar before noticing the greasy residue and sitting back on the rickety stool.

 

"Mulder's missing again? Damn, we need to put an indestructible radio collar on him."

 

"Well, we're fairly sure it's not aliens this time, there's a fairly recognisable trail to follow. The Gunmen have been tracking his credit card charges across the country. If it were anyone else, I'd have guessed that their card number got stolen." He scanned the list before him. "We think he's searching for something"

 

"When isn't he?" Alex noticed one of his 'students' walk straight past and sighed internally. "Mulder's always looking for something or other."

 

"Well, yes, but we'd like to have that something or other under the jurisdiction of the FBI. Walt was almost sub vocally growling when we left, you could feel the table vibrating. Mulder's going to have to have a good reason for this Great Hunt." John gazed mournfully at the bottles of liqueur, sadly out of reach while on duty.

 

"I would say something about the Fox and the Hound, but one: I have a problem in corrupting children's stories, and two: There's some imagery there I just don't want to go into…" Alex pouted as his overactive imagination filled in the gaps for him anyway. "Bah. Too late. There's one Disney movie I'll never be able to see again."

 

John grinned. His lover's predilection for cartoons had become legion in their trio. "Don't worry. We'll go watch American Tail when we're home. The rats do good in that!"

 

Alex beamed into his phone, humming "Somewhere Out There", as he tossed back the dregs of his coffee. Time for another role change. He picked up a gym bag and strolled towards the bathroom. "So, why are you spending the FBI's hard earned communications budget chatting to me? Not that I'm against the concept, but shouldn't you be nose to the ground and tracking?"

 

"I'm waiting for Scully to complete her 'interrogation'." The word was clearly accompanied by mental finger quotes.

 

"Not the standard FBI interrogation techniques? My, the X-files has certainly corrupted our Dana…" He slipped in to the handicapped stall and dropped the bag.

 

"She playing cards. Poker. Five Card Stud. Queens wild." John's voice was somewhat bemused.

 

"Not teaching that at Quantico anymore?" Alex snickered, switching to the hands-free as he changed.

 

"It's apparently the only way her contact will talk. She has to win it out of him. Not to mention Mulder's watch which she gave him for his birthday. Apparently Mulder lost it in a game first, so she has to win everything back before he'll talk. She's actually doing better than I'd have imagined."

 

"Our Scully's quite the card sharp is she?" Alex buttoned the ugly polyester shirt up and grimaced at the feel of the material against his skin.

 

"She plays like an old lady. She cups the cards right up to her face, leaves only about a fraction of an inch of each card exposed, glares at them as if they're responsible for all her problems, mutters to herself under her breath, has this really annoying head toss… She's wiping the floor with them. They've never met a poker face like this." John watched as Scully outbluffed her opponents with a pair of threes, neatly avoiding a flush.

 

"One second, just changing phones." Alex pressed a few buttons on his phone and slipped it away. After a short pause, his bag began ringing. Pulling a much cheaper, brighter mobile from the side pocket he continued his conversation as he left the café.

 

"Switching identities?"

 

"Yep. The coffee was horrible anyway." Alex made the requisite disgusted lip smacking noise. "I don't know where America is getting its coffee. I've had much nicer stuff overseas."

 

"Oh look, Scully's won the poor man's dog. A nice golden retriever with a harness type leash." John yawned. Maybe this would be over soon.

 

"Robbing them bli… Oh she's not, is she? Really?" Alex crossed the street and entered the next establishment.

 

"I'm afraid so. Nothing is standing in her way to get to her partner. She's roughing up the disabled. Next you know she'll go pushing around old geriatrics for their pension." John shifted his expression to innocent as the aforementioned redhead glared in his direction, her ears obviously burning.

 

"So you're not going to be home tonight?" Alex pouted into the phone, with the appropriately matched upset snuffle.

 

"No, it looks like we're going to be stuck here for a while, probably at that motel nearby that looks like it charges by the hour…" John was not a happy puppy.

 

'Well, I'll see if I can swing tomorrow off, I'm sure we can convince your boss to do so also, since there are added benefits for him…"

 

John smiled as he visualised the day off snuggled with his lovers. "Oh, yes. I think we can come up with some incentives…"

 

"Anyway. Gotta go, my next act is up." Alex rounded up the conversation, looking forward to the morrow as he stepped up to the cash register.

 

He beamed a professional smile at one of his students who was waiting patiently on the other side of the counter.

 

"Welcome to McDonalds, sir. May I take your order?"


	3. Crossed Lines

The bald head shone in the harsh light of the street light as he reached a hand out to the fallen man.

 

"Come with me if you want to live."

 

The dark haired cop blinked green eyes at the man he had thought destroyed before tentatively reaching up. He was pulled roughly to his feet by the other with seemingly little effort. The larger man, terse as always merely barked at him, the German accent strong.

 

"We don't have much time. The other will soon find us and kill us."

 

_*uh-oh*_

 

JD blinked as he came out of his typing daze and glanced at the toolbar. ICQ was merrily blinking at him, announcing a new message from "Basil". Flipping from his word processor, he brought up the message.

 

The game's afoot, Dr Dawson :)

 

JD grinned and quickly threw a message back.

 

Heh, busy over there?

 

The trace is taking far too much time. I need to track down these bastards, but I have to slog through at least twenty different servers before I can find any useful information.

 

Maybe I should outsource this job to the Gunmen... Just a message to say I might not be home for dinner, this job is not going quickly.

 

JD snorted. Alex tended to underemphasize problems. When he'd accidentally flooded the kitchen, he'd described it as 'A bit wet'. Walter had soundly cursed out the architect of the house who was stupid enough to build inward swinging doors in the kitchen, allowing the water to build up to nearly knee high, and jam the doors shut. It was wet enough for a suet of walruses to have had a rave party by the time they managed to break the doors down and release the water level.

 

Okay, we'll keep a plate warm.

 

*hug*

 

JD flipped back to his word processor.

 

The only warning the two had, was a flicker in the corner of their eyes. John threw himself into Jack, his heavier body slamming all the air out of his lungs as they both fell to the side, as a bullet slammed into the wall where Jack's head had been. Rolling to his feet, he pulled the still gasping Jack towards the exit, his eyes flickering all over the parking lot as his unease grew.

 

"We must leave now!"

 

He pulled the slighter man along, almost dragging him at times, before stuffing them both into a closet and motioning for silence.

 

"We mustn't make a noise." He cautioned.

 

_*Ring!*_

 

Surprised out of his focus again, JD picked up the phone.

 

"Hello?"

 

"Hey, lover." Walter's warm tones rolled out through the earpiece like warm melted caramel.

 

"Walt! Was just thinking about you." John grinned at himself. Yes. Solid, rock hard body of steel....

 

Walter's voice dropped an octave, "Hope they were good thoughts."

 

"Oh yes, you with Alex, and him all hot and sweaty in a tight Toronto PD uniform..." John could almost hear the images percolating through Walter's mind through the phone.

 

"And where are you in these thoughts?"

 

Laughing quietly to himself, John responded "Oh, really, really close behind, almost on your tail. Catching up fast."

 

"Just where I always like you to be." Walter's wicked grin could be heard over the phone line. It was soon followed by a long sigh as he continued. "I just had to ring and hear your voice; it's been a shitty day. Kersh has just ordered a complete overhaul of procedures in compliance with some obscure new law and guess who's wading through the paperwork to get it done?"

 

John looked mournfully out the door towards the general direction of the kitchen where mouth watering fragrances were wafting about the house. "Any idea when you'll be home?"

 

"Unfortunately won't be til late, I swear this used to be easier in the old days, now it's more like red duct tape, holding everything together. Sorry to miss the meal, but-"

 

"I'll leave a plate out for you." JD soothed, "Alex is pretty much in the same boat in regards to timing, and the food'll keep." Well, the roast wouldn't be hot, but that was alright, it would be just as good cold. The soufflé would be a definite non event, however, but he couldn't blame that on the others, although the timing was inconvenient. The night was looking to be an almost complete bust.

 

He listened to Walter's plight, allowing him to vent, making sympathetic noises at the right points, as the AD griped about certain forms and irresponsible agents who, with the new changes, would have expense reports that were twice as hard to explain.

 

_*Uh-oh*_

 

Heya, I need a file on our computer sent over here. Can you send the document marked Terma_49384.doc?

 

Sure, Walt's on the line, he's going to miss dinner also, Kersh has him in his slimy grasp.

 

Well, at least he's using lube. You know how Walt complains when he chafes. >:)

 

JD choked.

 

Walter instantly stopped rambling.

 

"John? Everything alright?"

 

JD stopped coughing in laughter long enough to answer in the affirmative.

 

"Sorry, just Alex giving me some horrible mental images..."

 

Walter's roar of laughter down the line washed over JD, as he explained his reactions.

 

"Tell that Rat that I'm not going to lube him next time!"

 

"Ow, Walt", JD winced.

 

"Heh, He won't need it where he's going. I'll just blow his socks off. I'm not that much of a hardass."

 

"Nah, you only play one on TV."

 

_*uh-oh*_

 

Wow.

 

*is speechless*

 

JD blinked. That response was a complete non sequitur, he hadn't even been in conversation with Alex in the last few minutes.

 

I mean... Wow.

 

What? What?!!

 

*fans himself* Phew! *Rowr*

 

I never knew you saw things like that, JD...

 

What are you on about?

 

I mean, me, a cop? I can get behind you and Walt being hunky robots of steel, since you both are already so buff, but, me? A cop? :)

 

JD swore.

 

He scrambled with the mouse to flip windows to the documents folder and realised what he had done.

 

"Oh shit. The wrong file."

 

"What's up John? You sound upset." Walter's concerned voice echoed in his ear as JD realised he'd said the last thing out loud.

 

"Uh. Um. Oh. Nothing's wrong! Nothing at all!"

 

As JD mentally back peddled trying to gain equilibrium after the gaffe, he heard a muffled _'Uh-oh'_ filtered through the phone's speaker, and felt his stomach hit rock bottom. He knew what had happened. He just knew it. He braced himself for the response.

 

Silence echoed eerily down the line, interspersed with faint mouse clicks.

 

*Evil Grin* Somehow this work doesn't seem all that important after all...

 

[Basil has gone offline: "Ahm on mah way, to my JD and happiness today... Uh-huh, Uh-huh, Uh-huh, Uh-huh.."]

 

JD felt the blood rush to his face. He'd hoped never to have this facet exposed.

 

When Walter finally spoke, he was breathing just a bit faster, and his voice was just that much gruffer.

 

"JD, Don't. Move. From. That. Chair."

 

He heard Walter making excuses through his intercom to Kersh before speaking again.

 

"I think I -will- be home for dinner after all."

 

JD hung up the phone and sat back. The night wasn't a bust after all. Dinner would be served, hilarity and hijinks would occur. Maybe he could also get some good reference material tonight for his fics...

 

END

 

A/N: Hey. I seem to recall a "meta fanfic" challenge where one character gets caught writing fanfic. Hah. Meta-meta fanfic. Self referential fanfic, eat yer heart out =)


End file.
